Puppies, Nanaba!
by FrenchieLeigh
Summary: AU: In which Lord and Lady Zakarius come to terms with their inability to conceive children. Post Almost an Earl, ONESHOT


**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan characters.

**Puppies, Nanaba!**

"Come now, Smith," chortled a portly man, bald atop his head but with hair like yellow curtains hanging from the sides, "You're not getting any younger. You'll need to marry soon if you intend to pass on your legacy."

"I fully intend to pass on my title," the duke replied, nodding in the direction of Levi Ackerman, "my great-nephew will inherit."

At the far end of the table, an elderly man quirked a brow over his drink. "Bori?"

"No," Levi muttered, arranging the playing cards in his hand, "Jean."

Erwin cracked a smile at the thought of his newest relative. "That one's trouble."

"Living up to his namesake, I suppose," was the Earl's response, tossing a card into the pile, following everyone else.

Lord Balto made a sour face at this. Why should a second son, the _third_ child of the Ackerman family inherit a great-uncle's dukedom when Levi's own heir would only rise to become an Earl? This new generation of nobility was thinning the blood, mixing the lineages and downright poisoning the system and he didn't approve. If it weren't for his friend Dot Pixis, Duke of Trost, he wouldn't associate with them at all.

"What of you?" he asked, turning his attention to Mike Zakarius, the only one of the group still childless.

"What of me?" the large man wondered, not at all bothered by his current lack of heir.

Lord Balto chuckled into his wine. "Well it doesn't seem like your wife is very useful. Perhaps you should find another."

Silence fell over the entire table then and all eyes turned to the swine that had the audacity to call himself a gentleman. All except for Mike Zakarius himself who stared down at the table, hair covering his eyes, denying anyone the view of his expression.

"Just saying," Balto continued, "that's what I did. My first wife, nah, she only gave me a daughter. Not much use there, am I right?"

This time, it was Nile Dawk who took offense. "Is there a problem with daughters?" he wondered, pulling his cigarette from his lips and extinguishing it with a small hiss into the ashtray. Having sired four girls himself, he was not about to let this pompous dickhead insinuate that his gems were anything less than worthy offspring. His daughters were absolute perfection and he would willingly die for each one of them.

He would kill for them.

"Yes," came the slick voice of Levi Ackerman, "do you not take pride in your girl?"

"Easy for you to say, Ackerman," Balto shrugged, "you've got two boys already. What do you have to worry about?"

"I also have a daughter, you pig fucking piece of shit," he growled.

Lord Pixis cleared his throat then, taking another hefty swig of alcohol. "Alright Balto," he chastised, "that's enough."

Balto held up his hands. "I meant no harm."

"Are you gentlemen alright?"

The gentle voice of Marie Dawk floated over to the men's table from the sitting area where their wives were discussing….whatever it was that wives discussed. The women looked on, curious at the ruckus coming from what was supposed to be a jovial card tournament.

Nile didn't trust himself to answer his wife. He'd endured eleven years of ridicule for not having yet born a son and as he watched her sitting there with her eyebrows raised in a suspicious type of worry, his eyes fell upon her belly, once again swollen with child. It was over the past few years that she had, of her own free will, _finally_ begun to warm up to the idea of being married to him and stopped (for the most part) comparing him to Erwin Smith.

There were times, however, such as now, where Erwin was a better man. A man who could speak without throwing around words inappropriate for a lady's ears. A man who could keep calm even throughout his anger.

"A spirited discussion, Your Grace," Erwin replied.

Marie accepted this and returned to her tea, but Lady Ackerman shot a glare full of warning at her husband lest he make a scene.

Lady Zakarius was silent.

She'd heard what had been said about her; it wasn't the first time this had happened. It was quite unusual for a woman to be married for six years, frequently intimate with her husband, and remain without children. There were those who gossiped about her, those who pitied her, and those, like Lord Balto, who held the opinion that Mike was much better off with someone more fertile.

Mike had never commented on their quiet household. He had never once suggested they actively attempt to create children and likewise, Nanaba had maintained the mindset of _if I become pregnant, I becom_e _pregnant_. It was normal, and it was natural.

But it never happened.

Lord Balto sat back, taking up his cup. "You should heed my words, Zakarius," he said, "nothing good will come of a shriveled up womb."

Before the crystal could even touch his lips, Mike's hand was around his neck. With little effort he stood, dragging the rounded man across the room and lifting him with ease, slamming him up against the nearest wall.

"You'll do well never to speak of my lady in such a manner," he said, his voice low and deep, but calm, smooth and ice.

Nanaba jumped up, bumping the table with her knees and sending the tea service scattering. She paid no mind to this, hurrying across the room where she was certain her husband was about to commit murder in her name.

"My lord!" she cried out.

Balto struggled in the younger man's grip, desperately thrashing against the choking sensation of his throat pressed in.

"_Stop_," he wheezed, kicking his fat legs, desperate for the ground that the Earl of Utgard had robbed him of.

"My lord, please!" Nanaba begged, her small hands on the crook of her husband's elbow, "there is no need for this."

He didn't reply, his mouth set in a firm line, his eyes bearing into the man at his mercy. At the table, the other men looked on, none of them even remotely opposed to their peer's course of actions. If he hadn't made a move to shut up the gluttonous fool, there was a good chance Nile would have shot him. Or perhaps Levi would have cut his throat just to take the satisfaction from Nile.

Erwin watched with great interest.

"You put the wrong sort of value on a woman," Mike said, his words terrifyingly casual as he pushed his hand forward, cutting off the man's air supply entirely, "and you are the very embodiment of filth in this society."

Nanaba swallowed, her own breathing quick and unstable, a sharp contrast to her normally collected demeanor. She understood her husband's fury, but there were consequences for taking the life of a peer outside of a formal duel. She wouldn't see him hang.

"Stop," she tried again, watching with horror as a blue hue crept over Lord Balto's face. His eyes rolled up into his skull and when she looked to the man who held him there, she saw no remorse.

"_Mike_."

The familiar tone pulled him from his rage and he loosened his grip just enough for the oily turd to catch a breath. He looked down at his wife, his beautiful icy blonde beauty staring up at him with her pleading eyes far more sympathetic than his own. She had never called him by his given name before, not outside the privacy of their own home and even that was reserved for occasions of emotional intimacy.

"Nanaba."

"Let him go, Mike," she whispered.

He did as she asked, removing his hand with a small shove, and not bothering to cushion the fall of the offender.

"His words are a reflection of his own character," she added, hugging her husband's arm tightly, glaring at the man on the ground, hand around his own neck as he struggled to breathe, "not ours."

Before Balto had the chance to rise, a small boot slammed into his face, cracking his cheekbone and sending blood squirting from his nose.

"I'll take it from here."

Mike nodded to Levi, laying a protective hand on Nanaba's trembling fingers. She was tough, but even she could only take so much. They'd be leaving now.

"You…you soldiers!" Lord Balto cried, "you're all monsters!"

"Ah, that may be true," Levi agreed, "but either I can teach you a lesson here or we can send you to the Berner/Zoe household to be dissected. Alive. It's your choice really."

"Or I could shoot him."

Levi looked to Nile. "With your shit aim that might just be the most effective method of torture."

Pixis poured himself a drink. Never a dull day within his social circle.

Inside the carriage, Mike sat across from his wife. She had gone silent again, something she was prone to doing. She had never been a very talkative woman. But as he observed her in her silence, he saw something new: a glisten, the gleam of tears welling up along her lower lash line. The tip of her nose was red. She was just barely keeping herself together.

"Is something the matter, my love?"

He knew exactly what was the matter, but he would not be so presumptuous to barge through her emotions, especially when she was unused to displaying them before him.

"No," she lied. Her chin wobbled and he waited.

"My ears and arms are always open to you, Nanaba. You know that."

She looked away and when the tears rolled down her face, she let out a small squeak, tightening every muscle in her body in order to keep quiet.

"Oh," he whispered, leaning forward, using his fingertips on her chin to coax her to look at him, "there's no need for tears, Kitten."

She parted her lips, probably to tell him she simply needed a moment, but no sounds came out.

"You don't have to cry," he added softly, wiping away the salty trail with his thumb.

It was then that Nanaba did something completely unexpected. Squeezing her eyes closed, she choked out a sob and with a firm grip on the arm that was outstretched to her, she climbed up onto his lap, curling up against his chest and clinging to the lapels of his topcoat as she emptied herself of everything she had bottled up inside for six years.

Mike gently pushed down her skirts and wrapped his arms around her, laying a kiss atop her head.

"But you can if you want to," he told her, burying his nose into her hair, holding her as close to himself as he could. He had never seen her cry before and he wasn't entirely certain how she liked to be comforted. All he knew was that in this moment she wanted to be near to him, and he would grant that.

"I apologize for my unsightly behavior," he sighed.

She shook her head, her grip on his clothing tightening. She was grateful he was so quick to defend her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, trembling, "I have not been able to fulfill my marriage duties."

Mike furrowed his brow, lifting his head. "What have you been unable to fulfill?"

"Children," she clarified, her voice hoarse and raspy as she began to calm down, her chest heaving every couple of seconds while her body returned to its natural state.

"I did not marry you for the sole purpose of children," he reminded her, still hugging her close.

"Children are your right as a man. It is my duty as your wife to provide them."

"Children are no one's right."

Nanaba paused, lifting her head upwards to look at him. What did he mean by that?

He took a breath. "I understand what society expects of us. You are to be quiet and obedient, yet charming and gracious. I am supposed to overlook our brood of boys, puff out my chest, cross my arms, then look down upon you with a nod and say, 'good work, my lady. You are a worthy wife.'"

Mike sighed again. "But I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because you have no reason to earn my approval. You don't need it. I married you because I fell in love with you, Kitten. Whether or not you would bear me an heir. . .quite honestly it hadn't crossed my mind."

She scooted up a bit, using his shoulder as support to pull herself into a more dignified position. "But—"

He silenced her with a finger to her lips, shaking his head. He knew what she was going to say.

"No," he said, "children are a blessing. A gift, not a right."

"Are we unworthy of such blessings then?" she challenged, "have we done something wrong?"

Mike shrugged. "I don't think so. I think that perhaps we are merely blessed in other ways."

Nanaba relaxed slightly, looking forward at her boots that poked out from her now decidedly unkempt clothing and pursing her lips in thought.

"It's just that. . ." she wrinkled her nose, trying to put her thoughts into words without sounding like a whiny maiden who couldn't have what everyone else did.

"Well," she tried again, "It just seems that I can't recall a time when Marie and Petra were _not_ with child. And Emma Gin, and Lizzie Schultz." Her shoulders dropped and her eyes misted over again. "Even Hanji has taken to motherhood in her own way. But me. . ."

Her forehead crinkled. "I've never even been late," she said, "there has never been any indication of hope for a child. Not one."

"Every person's body is different," he offered.

"But still," she pressed, _"six years_? Six years. I haven't been any less affectionate with you than they have with their husbands, so. . .why." With a hand pressed to her womb, she lowered her head, "have my insides become as icy as my outside?"

"Do you want children?"

It was a strange question for her to hear, but it was one that he had never asked before, and one she had never truly thought about.

"Of course," she replied, "what woman doesn't?"

Mike shook his head. "No. Do you _want_ children?" Her answer had been automatic, a product of her upbringing, the words that her mother, and every other woman in high society had drilled into her head since birth.

Nanaba fell silent, her grip on him loosening into a more affectionate hold, and rested her head against his chest.

"I don't know," she replied, "I always expected I would have them. Whether or not I wanted to become a mother was not my choice."

"But now," he wondered, "if you were given the choice, would you want children?"

"Do you?"

"I want your happiness." When she didn't reply immediately, he chuckled and added, "and I am very fond of my cousin so I'd be quite happy for him if he were to inherit my estate upon my death."

"I am happy," she told him, sliding her hand up to rest upon his neck, the closet of his skin that she could find, "with you."

He nuzzled her hair again, inhaling her beautiful scent and muttering into the golden locks, "we don't need offspring to be happy."

His breath tickled her and she smiled, squirming in her place. "I was always told happiness was not a requirement for a successful marriage."

"Ha." Mike raised his head, dipping her back so he could better see her face. "It is in this family."

The sudden movement startled her and her legs shot out, her boots slamming against the side of the carriage so as to keep herself steady. Her skirts slipped down over her knees, exposing her drawers and her husband gave her a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

"We are a family?" she wondered, reaching up in a futile attempt to fix her gown. The carriage flew over a bump and her efforts were lost as her arms shot up around his neck in response to her fear of falling.

"It only takes two people to be a family," he said gently, "and you do bear my name."

"I suppose that is true," she murmured.

"Besides," he went on, "we mustn't forget about Stella and Diego. They are just as much family as any children would have been."

Nanaba raised her brow and blinked. The dogs? Of course the dogs. Second to her they were his pride and joy, having raised both of them from infancy. The followed him everywhere he went, and when he was unavailable, they looked to her for companionship.

He smiled, giving her nose a light tap. "Stella will be having the litter soon," he reminded her, "we will be responsible for caring for the pups—six, seven, perhaps _ten _little creatures, all in one go!"

With the backs of his fingers, Mike stroked her face, smiling down at her. "_Puppies_, Nanaba. We'll raise puppies."

She smiled back, reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes, and running her finger down his nose, a gesture that always caused him to laugh softly.

"Puppies, hm?"

He caught her wrist and leaned forward, brushing a gentle kiss across her lips, grinning as he whispered, "_Puppies, Nanaba._"

**xxxx**


End file.
